Foreign Policies
by Soldier-Woman
Summary: Its back in captivity again for Alex!


Foreign Policies.

A/N-I put it in '24' because that's the only CIA category I could find. It has no relations to CIA except Alex Mandrikez being in the CIA. Plot belongs to author Daniel Silva -

**"Foreign Policies"  
Day 10  
17:32:11  
Alexandra Mandrikez as Marianne Williams  
London, UK**

"It's funny," said Marcus Seymour, " but when we checked the manifest for the flight from Amsterdam we didn't see anyone on the list named Alexandra Mandrikez."

"Obviously, you didn't look hard enough."  
The MI5 man held out his hand.

"Marcus, let's not do this. Haven't we more pressing matters to deal with than the name on my passport?"

"Give it to me."

Alex heaved a stubborn sigh as she handed Marcus her passport and leaned back in her car seat, looking at him. He had a full head of silvery hair that had a dark gray cast to it that gave him the look of those male models one sees in advertisements for costly but useless trinkets. She briefly looked away from him and looked at the window as he inspected her passport It was 5:32pm and already dark.

It felt good to be back in the United Kingdom, despite the fact it had been ages she's been back. She suddenly felt weary but Marcus's low, commanding voice drove her back into the car.

He recited the particulars.  
"Marianne Williams. Place of birth, Berlin." He looked up at Alexandra.  
"East or West hm?"

"Mari is definitely a woman of the West."  
"We had an agreement, Mandrikez."  
"Yes, I know."

"That agreement consisted of us granting absolution for your multitude of sins in exchange for a simple commitment on your part-that despite you being a British citizen, you would inform us when you were coming back to our fair shores and that you would refrain from conducting operations on our soil without obtaining our permission and cooperation beforehand."

"I'm sitting in the back of an MI5 limousine. How much more cooperation and notification do you _require?_"

"What about the passport?"  
"It's lovely, isn't it?"

"Do the Germans know you're abusing their travel documents?"  
"We're abusing yours too, Marcus. It's what we do."

"America has made you a bit ignorant, darling."

Alexandra gave a smile, but it faded quickly as if it were never there.

The MI5 man shook his head and sighed.  
"We don't do it. SIS makes a point of traveling only on British soil or Commonwealth passports."

"Some things never change... but, how sporting of them." Alex said. "But it's far easier to travel the world on a British passport than it is on a, say, Israeli or American one. Safer, too. Take a trip to Syria or Lebanon some time on either passports. It's an experience you'll _never_ forget."

"Smart-ass."  
Marcus handed the passport back to Alex. Alex smirked and looked at him.  
"What were you doing in Amsterdam?" he asked.

"Personal business."  
"Elaborate, please."  
"I'm afraid I can't."  
"Did the Dutch know you were there?"  
"Not exactly."  
"I'll take that as a no."

"I always heard you were good, Marcus." Alex said.

Marcus put a hand up, a sign that he had enough of the verbal sparring match. He reached down his side and pulled out a newspaper and threw it on Alex's lap with a plop.

Alex picked up the newspaper, and she frowned, looking at the headlines. The headline read, **Terror and Kidnapping in London**. But, it was the headline at the bottom of it that caught her attention. **American Intelligence Officer involved in ambush at Hyde Park.** Beneath the headline was a small, grainy photo of Alex pointing her Beretta into the face of Samir- al- Masri. Inside was a second photograph: the mug shot taken of her in New Scotland Yard in the hours after the attack.

"The photograph of you in the park was taken by a passerby with a mobile camera. Poor quality, but indeed quite dramatic. Congratulations, Alex, I suppose you now have another group of terrorists who would like your head on a platter."

Alex rolled her eyes and snapped, "It's Mandrikez now. Call me by my first name when _I_ tell you to now." She sighed. Back to hell. Even her homeplace didn't exactly welcome her now.

She scanned the article, and surprisingly, it contained her real name along with a largely accurate depiction of her professional exploits.

"Is your service responsible for this?"

"Trust me, _Mandrikez,_ I have enough headaches at the moment. I don't need one more. Regardless of how it happened, it does mean that you're not allowed to leave the country until all questions of your involvement in this affair are sorted out and aired in the proper forum."

"The details of my involvement in this affair are quite clear, Seymour. I came to London to warn you that a cell of terrorists from Amsterdam are probably in England preparing for a major attack. You chose to ignore that warning. Now the British Ambassador's daughter is kidnapped. Would you like me to air that in front if a proper forum?" The Brit raised a sassy brow at him.

Seymour appeared to give the question serious thought before responding.  
"You are charged with several serious offenses, including entering Britain on a false passport, illegal possession of a firearm, and the unlawful discharge of that firearm in a public place."

"This is ridiculous. I discharged my illegal firearm into three terrorist murderers." She was now, annoyed and incredibly fiesty.

"It doesn't matter. You have to remail in Britain until we get this sorted out. To release you now would be to invite wailing and gnashing of teeth from all quarters." Seymour gave a weak smile. "Don't worry, Alexandra. We arranged comfortable quarters for you. You're lucky. You get to leave London again while the rest of us have to deal with the aftermath."

At this point, she knew neither of them cared about how they called each other.  
"Does my service know I'm in custody, Marcus?"  
"They will shortly. We've notified the legal liaison officer at your embassy, as well as your declared chief of station."

The car turned into the driveway of Thames House, MI5's imposing riverfront headquarters. Vauxhall Cross, the headquarters of MI6, the foreign intelligence service, stood on the opposite side of the river overlooking the Albert Embankment.

"My driver will run you to one of our safehouses. Don't even think of escaping, because he is well armed and an excellent shot." Seymour said as he opened the door, and looked back at her.

"Where would I go Marcus? I don't have a passport." Alex said innocently.  
"I'm sure you could come up with one." He said, shaking his head as he got out of the car and again looked at her.  
"Is there anything else you could tell us, Alex? Anything that might help us locate the Ambassador's daughter, Elizabeth?"

"I've told you everything I know."  
"Everything except the name of your source."  
"They're just sources, Marcus. Besides, I promised to protect mine."

"At times like these, sources aren't for protecting, darling. They're to be used and burned."

"I'd rather not touch this one, Marc. He risked his life coming to us."  
"Have you ever considered he may be linked to this affair?"

"He's not." She replied.

"Well, I hope you're right. It's been my experience that sources rarely tell the whole truth. They do lie, don't forget that. That's what sources do. That's why they're sources in the first place." He paused as a smile slowly made its way on his face.  
"But, cheerio dear. We'll be in touch soon." He closed the door, and patted the car's rear then watched it drive off.

Alex shook her head.

_Cheers to another time in captivity_, she thought.

A/N- Read and review...if you want, lol.


End file.
